Nineteen
by Siskin
Summary: He saved the world...but lost himself. AU, taking place ten years after End of Evangelion. Chapter 4, at long last!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Evangelion is not mine. No way could I come up with anything that wacked. Just playing with the characters for a while and I'll put them back where I found them.

Warnings: AU…or maybe just a different interpretation of canon events. Follows on End of Evangelion, taking place 10 years later; doesn't account for Death & Rebirth.

---

Nineteen

**Chapter 1 **

---

Takae stared uneasily at the man.

The man stared up at the ceiling. His dark eyes were empty. Black shadows lay beneath them. He was dressed only in hospital pants, and he was gaunt; she could count his ribs. Although his face was still smooth and unlined, his short brown hair was laced with white.

"Miss Ikeda!"

She jumped and looked over at the doctor. The woman was glaring over her narrow glasses.

"Pay attention."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am."

The woman returned to her lecture. "Before each meal, at exactly eight a.m., twelve-thirty, and five p.m., he takes five CCs of Formula A6. This will ensure that he's active enough for you to feed him and get him through his exercise. I'll show you the route a bit later, after lunch. Since you'll be on second shift, four p.m. to eleven p.m., you'll be responsible every day for his five p.m. medication, his dinner, and his six-thirty exercise.

"After his exercise you return him to his room, walk him to the toilet and assist him, then give him five CCs of Formula B8, put him to bed and apply the restraints. He may seem very docile right now, but he becomes extraordinarily violent at night. If that proves too difficult for you to believe, as it did for the last two aides, it might bolster your memory to know that the aide before last lost an eye, most of her teeth, and had both her arms broken because she didn't properly restrain him when she put him to bed.

"The last aide was not nearly as lucky. She was late in medicating him one evening. She's still in the ICU upstairs, in a vegetative state, because he broke free of his restraints and strangled her." The doctor stopped and studied Takae.

Takae was shaking inside and felt like she was going to vomit, but she controlled the urge, looking again at the silent man on the bed. She looked back at the doctor.

Her response must have been satisfactory. The doctor nodded briskly and went on.

"At eight p.m., or if he becomes restless before that time, he receives five more CCs of Formula B8. If that doesn't settle him down within ten minutes, then he receives five CCs of Formula B24. Do _not_ wait any longer than ten minutes to give him the second dose. It's quite likely, by the way, that he'll become more agitated with a new face around. If you have to give him the B24, then immediately notify Dr. Ito so she can come down and check on him, because B24 has sent him into cardiac arrest twice."

Takae blinked. "Dr. Satou—"

The doctor eyed her keenly. "Yes?"

"If… if there's a risk of cardiac arrest, why give him Formula B24?" She held her breath, hoping she hadn't just ruined her chances.

Instead, the doctor looked pleased. "Instead of just giving him B16?"

Takae nodded.

"I will tell you, Miss Ikeda, that none of the other aides bothered to ask that question. Think about what I've said for a moment, and I'm sure you can come up with the answer on your own."

Takae frowned. Formula B16 was twice as powerful as B8; B24 was three times more powerful, but also—"Because B24 acts more quickly."

"Yes. If he is agitated enough that the B8 doesn't calm him, there isn't time for a dose of B16 to take effect."

She didn't have to ask, time before _what_. Not after the doctor's description of past incidents. She glanced at the restraints holding the silent man down. _He can get wild enough to break out of something _that_ strong?_

"Miss Ikeda."

The doctor's voice was stern again. Takae winced and looked the doctor.

"I can see that you're an intelligent and compassionate person, but I'm going to repeat myself, because I don't want to see a person like you wasted on a stupid mistake. This man is dangerous. When agitated he becomes horrifically violent. He has killed people and is capable of killing more. Whether or not he wishes to be this way is a moot point for you and me. Our job is to protect others from him and protect him from himself."

"Yes, ma'am," Takae whispered.

"I'm going to stay with you on this shift, because dealing with this patient can be a very disturbing experience and I want to see for myself how you handle it. After that, you're on your own. You wouldn't have gotten this job if you didn't have sound judgment. But before you came here, you worked primarily with nonviolent patients. Your compassion will allow you to do this difficult job because you believe that this man deserves to be treated like a human being even though his illness makes him behave like something less than human.

"But you must apply that compassion by doing your job to the best of your ability. You must protect yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." The doctor turned toward the door. "Let's move on to the dispensary."

They moved toward the door, but Takae couldn't stop herself from taking one more glance back.

The man was motionless.

She followed the doctor out.

---

Her first shift went smoothly.

She was outwardly calm, inwardly trembling as she released Patient 19 from his restraints at five p.m. She delivered the A6 injection without a hitch. A few minutes later, he began to stir faintly, a frown creasing his forehead. His eyes settled on her face, but didn't focus.

He allowed himself to be pulled upright in bed. She assisted him to his feet and into a padded chair. Feeding him was a long process; he ate when food was put to his mouth but made no effort to reach for the spoon.

He had to be guided as she took him out for his "exercise". A nudge to the back would set him going for a few moments, but then he would drift to a stop, staring ahead with that eternal, faintly confused frown. To keep him moving, she had to keep one hand on his back and one on his arm.

Back in the room, she guided him into the tiny bathroom, which opened with a key she carried. She'd been uneasy about this, even though she'd had other patients that needed assistance with these functions, but it wasn't much different. Easier, even, because of his almost total lack of response. She cleaned him, changed his clothing, and with a heart that was rapidly picking up pace, guided him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

He'd been gradually losing momentum; it'd become more and more difficult to keep him moving as the A6 wore off. Once she injected the B8, he seemed almost to collapse into himself. His eyes dilated and lost what focus they'd had, which wasn't much; his head slowly sank until his chin was on his chest. She carefully moved him into bed, and buckled and locked the straps in place. She checked to be sure they were tight. He never twitched; she could barely see the movement of his chest as he breathed.

"Very good," the doctor said quietly.

Once the door was locked, the doctor escorted her to the aides' station, which had monitors and speakers to the rooms. "Once he's put to bed, you should be able to stay out here for most of the rest of your shift. But the station is never to be left totally unattended. Be sure someone is here before you step away, and keep your radio with you."

That was another daunting thing. In her previous job, she'd never carried a radio so that she could be summoned back _immediately_…

After that, the doctor stayed at the duty station and asked her to go and get them both some coffee. Takae complied, heading for the small break room. No one was there when she entered; she prepared the two coffees and headed out, passing a couple of aides who nodded to her in greeting; she returned the salutation.

"New aide for Nineteen," she heard one of them whisper just before she was out of earshot.

"Hope she survives longer than the last two," the other replied.

…_Great._

Dr. Satou accepted her coffee with a nod and a murmur of thanks.

A lot of the other patients were still on their exercise periods. The station was, for the most part, deserted.

"Dr. Satou…"

"Yes, Miss Ikeda?"

"Is there anything more you can tell me about Patient Nineteen? If…if I knew a little more of his background—"

"His background is classified at the highest level, Miss Ikeda. You are not cleared for that information."

Takae fell silent.

"However…"

Takae looked down at her.

The doctor was staring at the monitor where Nineteen slept, motionless as a corpse against the white sheets.

"I can impart to you information that I feel is critical to doing your work properly."

Takae held her breath.

"I have reviewed the video and audio recordings from Nineteen's room on the occasions of the aides' negligence and subsequent injury. In both cases, it was during a time when the initial dose of B8 failed to work and the aide was waiting for the supplementary dose to take effect. In both cases, the patient roused enough to speak to the aide.

"In attempting therapy on Nineteen upon his admission to this facility, it was found that when roused sufficiently during the day with a dose of A12, he seemed to enter a sort of waking dream state. He showed response when spoken to, and was occasionally able to produce an appropriate-seeming reply to a question. This excited the therapists greatly at first, but many months of experimentation indicated at last that Nineteen is incapable of meaningful communication. He hears, but does not truly understand what is said to him. Nor is he truly aware of what is going on around him. He lives wholly in some inner world.

"The first aide did not properly fasten Nineteen's restraints. He became agitated early that evening. She delivered the first dose of B8. He calmed slightly, but continued to rave. She spoke back to him and believed him to be replying to her. When he grew violent, she attempted to properly secure his restraints. He broke free and physically assaulted her.

"The second aide had properly fastened Nineteen's restraints. The situation was similar. He became agitated; she medicated him. He began to speak, and she listened to him, and failed to deliver the dose of B24. Her attempts to reassure him failed as he became more agitated, and he broke free of the restraints and assaulted her."

The doctor raised her head to look at Takae, but Takae was staring at the still figure on the camera.

"My point, Miss Ikeda, is that he can appear to be coherent, but that does not make him rational. Or safe."

"Yes, ma'am."

As eight o'clock approached, Nineteen remained quiet. Takae went to the dispensary to get his medication. When she returned to the monitor, she could hear something in the room, but it was too quiet to make out. She hurried in.

Nineteen wasn't moving, but he was whispering something. She came close, laying the syringe and other items on the small ledge. Nineteen stirred, turning his head, cloudy eyes searching, and Takae froze in an instant of shock when she saw tear tracks gleaming down his cheeks.

She got moving again quickly, filling the syringe and swabbing his arm with alcohol. His eyes continued to rove; his thin arms moved weakly in the restraints. She found the vein and picked up the syringe.

"…Mother?" Breathy and high, a child's whisper.

Takae closed her eyes briefly, and then looked at him. His eyes were gazing in the direction of her face, but they were blind eyes, unseeing.

She slipped the needle into his arm and depressed the plunger.

He showed no reaction to the needle going in, except that more tears slipped down his face. She withdrew the syringe and prepared it for disposal.

His eyes lost what tiny bit of focus they had had. He gave a low sigh; his lips parted. He was motionless and silent again. She waited a few minutes, but he was like a corpse again, his breathing hardly audible.

Takae hurried out to the aides' station and across to the dispensary. She put the syringe and other items in the disposal unit. Then she returned to the monitors. Dr. Satou was watching her.

"You'll do fine," Dr. Satou said at last.

---

_Excerpt from The Report of the Commission on the Abortion of Third Impact, Appendix XIII – Third Child – Shinji Ikari, Section IX – Aftermath of Abortion of Third Impact, Part IV – Testimony of Dr. Yumi Satou, Examining Psychiatrist_

_Q: Dr. Satou, before we begin, please allow me to confirm the sequence of events leading up to the admission of the Third Child to your facility._

_A: Yes, sir._

_Q: The Third Child was confirmed in the NERV Headquarters until shortly before 1120. He emerged in EVA Unit 01 at 1137, following the execution of the Second Child by the EVA Series at 1132._

_A: Yes, sir._

_Q: EVA 01 was captured by the EVA Series at 1146. The Third Child somehow drew the Lance of Longinus into the atmosphere and to his position at 1149._

_A: Yes, sir._

_Q: Unfortunately, the Third Child did not activate the communications system in EVA 01 when he launched it; in fact, we received reliable confirmation from within NERV that EVA 01 had been neutralized. Therefore, the method by which the Third Child activated EVA 01 and launched it is unknown to us, as are his motives in doing so. Our only clue is that upon launch he proceeded directly to EVA Unit 02's position, even though it was already too late to save the Second Child. We also have no input as to how he managed to retrieve the Lance of Longinus from space._

_A: Yes, sir._

_Q: He attacked the EVA Series and destroyed all of them with the Lance of Longinus._

_A: Yes, sir._

_Q: Immediately thereafter, he returned to NERV HQ and produced an energy beam from the Lance of Longinus. Most of the surrounding military vehicles used in the SEELE invasion of NERV were destroyed. He destroyed NERV HQ and killed over 150 soldiers and over 30 NERV employees still inside, including his father, Gendo Ikari, head of the Human Instrumentality Project._

_A: Yes, sir._

_Q: After the destruction of NERV HQ, EVA Unit 01 shut down and collapsed. The Japanese government reached the scene first—due to 01's destruction of the military backup—and released Unit 01's entry plug. The Third Child was alive inside, but unresponsive. His heart stopped en route to the hospital, and he was revived with a defibrillator and epinephrine. He remained unresponsive until two weeks after his admission._

_A: No, sir._

_Q: Have I missed something?_

_A: Yes, sir. One of the aides who traveled in the ambulance with him spoke to me just before my first examination of the Third Child._

_Q: What did she tell you, Dr. Satou?_

_A: She said the Third Child spoke to her in the last few minutes of the ambulance ride, moments after they revived him._

_Q: What did he say?_

_A: She told me that he said, "Can I go to sleep now, Mother?"_

_Q: I see. Thank you, Dr. Satou._

---

**End Chapter 1**

---


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Evangelion is not mine. No way could I come up with anything that wacked.

Warnings: AU…or maybe just a different interpretation of canon events. Follows on End of Evangelion; doesn't account for Death & Rebirth.

Note: "---" divides scenes and sets documents and flashbacks off from narrative. If you're seeing _italics, _you're reading a character's thoughts or memories, a document, or a flashback. Lots of those in this chapter.

---

Nineteen

**Chapter 2**

---

_Excerpt from Patient Record 19, Recording Transcript Session #0195, 11 May 2016, 11 a.m._

_Satou: Shinji, can you hear me?_

_Ikari: (11 seconds)_

_Satou: Shinji, it's Dr. Satou. Can you hear me? Move your left hand if you can hear me._

_Ikari: (8 seconds) Asuka…?_

_Satou: No, Shinji. Asuka isn't here. It's me, Dr. Satou._

_Ikari: (5 seconds) Help me…_

_Satou: I want to help you, Shinji, but you have to talk to me. Move your left hand if you can hear me._

_Ikari: Help me…_

_Satou: I want to help you._

_Ikari: (9 seconds) Please…Asuka…_

_Satou: Shinji…_

_Ikari: (3 seconds) Mother?_

_Satou: (4 seconds) Shinji?_

_Ikari: (7 seconds) Mother…make them stop…take me with you…I don't want to be here anymore…_

_Satou: (4 seconds) Shinji…_

_Ikari: (9 seconds) Mother…please…(7 seconds) Please…can I go to sleep now? _

_Satou: (7 seconds) Go to sleep, Shinji._

_End Transcript_

---

_May, 2016_

_The lounge door closed, and she heard a full mug put down on the table at her elbow. "Thank you, Kyosuke," she muttered, taking her hands away from her face. She took the cup of hot tea with one hand; with the other, she searched the pocket of her lab coat for a tissue._

_A clean handkerchief was pressed into her hand. She mopped at her wet cheeks and blew her nose, then took a long, careful swallow of the tea._

"_Yumi…are you all right?" He pulled a chair out and sat beside her. "I know it's been hard for you, seeing him slide like this. I know how hard you've been trying with him—everyone does." He reached out, and softly brushed a loose lock of hair back behind her ear. "But…well, maybe you need a rest, Yumi. Take a few days; get away for a little bit—"_

_She closed her eyes. "I'm fine."_

"_Then how come I keep finding you like this? Every session, Yumi, for days now. You can't go on like this."_

_She put down the cup and glared at his intent, concerned face. "How can I walk away from him now, Kyosuke? If I can get through to him—just once—" She looked away._

"_It's been almost a year, Yumi, he's never—"_

"_He's only fifteen! He can't spend—"_

"—_before, a few days away would be better than—"_

"—_life in this place, after he saved us all, he deserves better than—"_

"_Yumi!" His hand closed around hers and squeezed very hard, and she winced and looked up at him, red-eyed._

"_Yumi…" He relaxed his hold on her hand and held it gently. "You've come to care about him a lot. You've never been willing to give up on him. You can't imagine how much I admire you for it, as much as it baffles everyone else. But you're getting too close. Everyone can see it. You've never let it compromise safety…but you have to back off, or you'll be forced to," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I'm going to anyway. Dr. Nomura is concerned, and he's thinking about taking you off Ikari's case. It hasn't been decided," he said, squeezing her hand hard again as her mouth dropped open, "but if he doesn't see a change soon, it's going to happen."_

_She stared down at the table, silently fuming, and she heard him sigh. He put a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Yumi, you're one of the best doctors on staff and you're probably the best thing that's ever happened to that poor messed-up kid. If anyone can bring him around, you can. But the best thing you can do for him right now is do what you have to do so that he doesn't get shoved off on someone else."_

_She didn't look up, and he sighed quietly again. He took his hand from her shoulder. "Think about it. Please?" He got up, moving toward the door._

"_He _screams _at night, Kyosuke," she murmured._

_He stopped and looked back._

"_When he first came, we gave him Formula B8 to calm him down once a week or so…but it's been two nights out of three for the last two weeks. He _screams_, as if someone's pulling him to pieces." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. "Have you heard him? And last night he fought the orderlies when they tried to put him to bed. He _fought_ them. He's _never _shown any physical aggression before, not since he was admitted, not even on a dose of A12." Her voice trembled, and Kyosuke moved slowly back toward the table._

"_In his sessions, he used to say things…describe things…ask where Major Katsuragi was, or the Fifth Child, or the First Child…but now he only asks for the Second Child…for Asuka, over and over again…or for his mother…he asks them to help him…and he cries…" She broke down again, covering her face with her hands; she felt Kyosuke's hands on her shoulders, but she only cried harder. _

_He stood silently as she sobbed. "I'm not helping him, Kyosuke," she whispered brokenly. "Maybe they're right…maybe he just can't be reached. Maybe I _should_ be off his case. Maybe it'd be better if he'd just died in that ambulance on the way here, at least then he wouldn't be suffering like this—"_

_Kyosuke let go of her shoulders and stepped around her, and she gasped as he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to her feet. He looked hard into her wide eyes, his face inches from hers. "Don't say that, Yumi. You've _never_ given up. Don't start now." He slowly relaxed his grip on her arms and cupped her face in his hands. "You _will _get through to him somehow. Just keep telling yourself that and believe it." His expression remained intense for a few moments, and then relaxed into a slight smile. He softly brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "All right?"_

_She stared at him, her head swimming, and then nodded slowly. He pulled her toward him, and she submitted, leaning her head against his shoulder._

---

(June, 2025)

"Dr. Satou?"

Yumi slowly put down the framed photograph on her desk and looked up. "Yes, Miss Ikeda?"

"I've given—" The young woman blinked, seeing Yumi's red eyes. "Oh—I'm sorry…are you all right?"

"Yes, Miss Ikeda." She smiled wanly. "What is it?"

Takae swallowed and continued. "I've given Nineteen his A6 to get him ready for dinner, but it isn't working. His vitals are normal, but I can't get him up. It's been almost fifteen minutes—do I give him another dose of A6, or try A12?"

Yumi closed her eyes briefly. A headache was starting to throb between her eyes, and she rubbed the spot as she thought. _Is he slipping even further away now? _"Give him the A12," she murmured. "I'll come with you, just in case; we haven't given him A12 in months."

Takae watched her with a worried expression as she disentangled herself from her office chair. The girl was perceptive, but after only two weeks she was still far too new to get very personal. _Good thing, because I don't have the energy to fend her off right now, _Yumi thought wearily.

---

The A12 took effect quickly. As Takae and Yumi stood over him, Nineteen stirred and began to move, the usual confused expression manifesting on his face. His eyes focused partially on Takae's face, then Yumi's. He made an effort to sit up on his own, and Takae gasped a little; he encountered the restraints, and settled back slowly, blinking as though trying to clear his vision.

Yumi stared as Takae gingerly unfastened the restraints. _That's the most daytime activity I've seen out of him in years. _It only required a tug at his arm to get him up again, and at a nudge from Takae, he crossed the room entirely on his own—although very slowly—to sit down in his chair. Takae covered her mouth in surprise.

She looked at Yumi. "…Is that normal for him on A12?" she murmured.

_Ten years ago it would have been sluggish behavior on A12… _Yumi shook her head. "Just go on like normal," she murmured. "Let me observe."

Takae sat down to feed Nineteen, and he watched her, cloudy-eyed, but still trying to focus. He tracked the spoon with his eyes, and on the fourth spoonful he anticipated her and leaned forward a little. It startled Takae, who pulled her hand back as if she expected to be bitten; the food slopped onto the table. Nineteen blinked, but made no other move; Takae recovered her composure on her own, continuing as if nothing had happened.

Yumi watched in silence. When Nineteen finished eating and Takae got him up to take him outside for his exercise, the doctor followed.

Takae still had to keep in contact with him to keep him moving, but instead of staring blankly, he continued to track objects with his eyes, and kept trying to stop and look. He submitted obediently when Takae nudged him on; two or three times he turned his head as if trying to look at her.

Yumi took a closer look at Takae herself, and raised her eyebrows once she realized something. _I'll have to check his file later…but I'm almost sure. It didn't occur to me before._

By the time they returned to the room, Nineteen had slowed down. He allowed himself to be escorted to the bathroom, and showed no more attention than usual to being assisted to the toilet and sponge-bathed.

Once he was dressed in fresh hospital pants, Takae steered him out of the bathroom and toward the bed.

He balked.

Takae did a double take. A faint frown creased his forehead as he stared at the bed, eyes unfocused; his lips parted, and as she gave him another gentle nudge, he planted his feet.

"Miss Ikeda," Yumi said softly. "Sit him down in his chair."

Takae blinked, but obeyed, turning Nineteen toward the padded chair. After another brief resistance, he complied, sinking down in the chair, lapsing into motionless silence.

"Go and get his dose of B8, and a dose of B24."

Takae looked at her in alarm. She nodded, but hesitated. "Should I call for Security…?"

"Not just yet. Go, Takae."

The girl blinked again as Yumi used her first name; then she hurried off toward the dispensary, looking over her shoulder.

Yumi looked at Nineteen. He sat still; his head sagged forward a little, as if the effort of exerting will had exhausted him. She moved toward him. He followed her with heavy, slow eyes.

She crouched in front of him, so that he could look her in the face. He gazed back emptily.

"Shinji?" she said very softly.

His eyes widened slightly.

Her heart began to pound. "Shinji, can you hear me? Move your left hand if you can hear me."

His head lifted a bit, his eyes struggled unsuccessfully to focus; but his left hand didn't even twitch.

She sighed and sat back on her haunches. The wild hope that had risen so quickly in her chest withered away painfully. _I didn't know I still had any hope. _She watched him for a few moments, and then rose to her feet.

On the left arm of the chair, his fingers lifted a little, and then sank down.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

Takae came back in just then, carrying the two syringes. "Here, ma'am."

Yumi stood motionless, staring at Nineteen, frozen in indecision.

"…Ma'am?" Takae's voice seemed to come from miles away.

A powerful temptation seized her. _Send Takae back for another dose of A12. Administer it. Try again…_

She fought it off. _Possibly lose my job…get Takae in trouble…at the very least be removed from the case for good this time._

_If there's really a change …I can't risk that now._

It still hurt. "Miss Ikeda…give him the B24," she said quietly.

Takae gave her another startled look, and then looked back at Nineteen, sitting in the chair; his head had lowered further, sinking almost to his chest. His eyes were closed.

"…Yes, ma'am." Takae moved forward, and swabbed the patient's arm. He didn't move or resist; his chin came to rest on his chest as Takae injected him.

"Let's get him into bed," Yumi said quietly.

---

Yumi sat in her office. She'd come in to pack up and get ready to leave for the evening, and then she'd remembered that she wanted to check Nineteen's file. She picked carefully through the thick, worn folder until she spotted the photograph she'd thought she remembered seeing.

A woman smiled, holding a little boy by the hand. Her face was in partial profile as she looked down toward him. Thick dark hair was fluffed around her face; the dark eyes shone; the face was sweet and warm, echoed in the boy's delicate features. His eyes matched hers, as well; as he'd grown older, he'd developed no resemblance to his father at all.

Takae's hair was styled a bit differently, cut shorter over the ears and falling in waves, but it was nearly identical in color and overall length; her eyes were dark and expressive, and she had a sweet, kind face.

_It couldn't really be that simple, could it?_

Yumi closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest of her chair.

_After all this time…why would he be responding now? If he really is._

_No, he has to be. He was watching. He was aware, even though there's no way to tell if he was perceiving reality or not._

_Could I reopen his case? Get authorization to start treatment again?_

She turned the thought over. The problem was a catch-22. When alert, Nineteen could be dangerous. If she reported his active behavior, the issue of his medication would come up. Yumi had had a valid reason to give him the A12, since he hadn't responded to the A6 within the appropriate time period. But she knew how Nomura thought. Nomura wouldn't see his behavior as a breakthrough; he'd consider it just a fluke, brought on by an unexpected change in medication.

_One small lift of the fingers won't be enough. I'm going to have to get more of a response out of him…and I'm going to have to do it very carefully._

_Something new has to have happened. Maybe Takae is the key. At this point, I'll take anything._

_After the last time I tried to get through to him…I really thought he would never respond again…_

---

_(August, 2016)_

_"Shinji, it's Dr. Satou. Can you hear me?" Her voice trembled badly, but she didn't care._

_Silence._

_"Shinji?"_

_He sat. He'd just had a fresh injection of A12…but he gazed with unfocused eyes at the wall, his head lolling against the headrest of the chair. His right arm dangled over the chair arm; the left lay lax in his lap. Usually he at least sat upright._

_She'd said his name over and over; whispered it; shouted it._

_"Shinji, it's Dr. Satou…" "I'm Dr. Satou, do you remember me, Shinji?" "Shinji, move your left hand if you can hear me…"_

_She could have been talking to a doorknob, or an empty chair. He slumped like a rag doll, silent as a corpse, and suddenly she had a feeling she'd never experienced in connection with her patient before—revulsion. It was his half-open eyes, she decided, as nausea twisted her stomach. They could be the eyes of a drowned man, lungs full of seawater, waiting for the fish to come nibbling…_

_She shot up from her crouched position and then promptly stumbled and fell, as dizziness and her cramped legs struck her both at once. She shifted to sit on the floor, facing away from her patient, and then she could breathe again. She lowered her head, fighting faintness._

He's dead,_ she thought dazedly. _He's really just dead. He only moves and eats and breathes out of habit, because it's too much trouble not to…

_She turned around again and crawled toward him, coming to kneel in front of his chair. "Shinji…listen to me," she whispered hoarsely. "You're all I have now. You have to be alive…because Kyosuke is dead. Do you hear me, Shinji? He's dead." She laughed a little. "You don't even know who he is, do you? You don't care. You're dead too, so why should you care? But I'm going to tell you anyway. He was the only person who believed in me, the only person who believed in you. He believed in you even when I was ready to quit, because he believed in me. And now he's gone. A car hit him while he was walking out of the building, Shinji."_

_She crept closer, putting her hands on the boy's knees, looking into that inert, expressionless face. "So, you see? You have to get better, Shinji. You have to make it worth it, because I promised him I wouldn't give up." She would have said more, but her voice dissolved into tears; she laid her head on Shinji's knee and wept. "Help me," she sobbed._

_She cried until her throat was raw, her face wet. She heard someone knocking loudly on the door, but she ignored it; the door was locked. She looked up at last._

_His face had not changed. Blank, silent, dead. She rose slowly to her feet and took his shoulders, and shook him a little, gently, as the knocking turned into pounding and blurred voices called to her. She ignored them. "Shinji," she whispered brokenly. "Please?"_

_He didn't stir. She shook him a little more; his head sagged on his limp neck—and suddenly he slumped forward. She jerked away in shock._

_He rolled out of the chair and thumped bonelessly to the floor, limbs at odd angles, glazed eyes still half open, and the resemblance to a corpse was complete. She staggered backward, her gorge rising, clapping a hand over her mouth as she gagged. She whirled and fell on her knees in a corner, clutching at the floor as she vomited._

_She missed the unlocking of the door, the orderlies bursting in. Her body heaved, her stomach convulsing over and over long after it was empty._

_When Security finally got her to her feet to escort her out to a waiting ambulance, she saw that they'd taken Shinji away. Later, she felt guilt._

_At the time, she felt only relief that she didn't have to look at him again._

_Over three months passed before she entered the building again. First the psych evaluation, then the investigation. Stress- and grief-induced nervous breakdown, they'd decided. She'd already been under visible strain, her primary patient declining in spite of her best efforts. The sudden death of Dr. Kyosuke Sasaki, with whom she had recently become romantically involved, had been the last straw._

_When she returned, Shinji had been reassigned to another doctor. His inexplicable struggles with the orderlies at bedtime had become a nightly affair; he was regularly drugged to sleep. His sessions had become repetitive, and had been discontinued; he no longer showed any indication of genuine communication._

_If there was a bright side, it was that after a respite, he'd begun to respond to A6 again, at least enough to get up and moving for ordinary daily routine. Why he'd ceased to respond to the stimulants, no one could explain._

_It didn't really seem to matter anymore. He was moved to the highest security unit, with dedicated aides instead of regular orderlies. He was drugged and strapped down in bed at night. He had to be drugged again in the morning to get him in motion. Yumi stood over him as he lay in bed, the first night she was allowed to visit his room unaccompanied. His thin body seemed to drown in the stark whiteness of the sheets; he seemed farther away than ever._

_"I'm sorry, Shinji," she whispered. "I didn't want to leave you. I won't do it again. I promise." She hesitated, then stepped a little closer. "You're still all I have," she breathed. "And I guess I'm all you have now. The people you used to call for…they're all gone. Misato…Rei…Kaworu…Asuka…your mother…they're gone, Shinji, and I can't get them back for you. I can't be them. I'll just be me, Shinji…I'll just be here, waiting for you, when you decide it's safe to wake up again."_

_She raised her hand to her mouth, kissed her fingertips softly, and touched her fingers softly to Shinji's forehead. She turned and left the room._

---

(June, 2025)

Takae watched the monitor.

Nineteen hadn't twitched since his dose of B24. A few other aides were around at this hour, having finished putting their own charges back in their rooms. There were a few faint murmurs of conversation.

Footsteps crossed the room and stopped beside her; Takae looked over to see the doctor looking up at Nineteen's monitor intently.

Takae looked back at the monitor herself. _Something happened this afternoon. Was it really just the change in medication? She said he doesn't perceive reality, but he _looked _at me. I'm almost sure he was seeing me._

She stifled a sigh. But those other aides she talked about… She tried not to shudder. They might have thought the same thing. I wonder why he only gets violent at night. It doesn't seem to make any sense. He's in a catatonic stupor all day, but when the sun goes down he goes violent-paranoid? What is he, a vampire? She winced, thinking of the daily chemical cocktail he'd been served for so long. It can't be helping much, beyond preventing him from hurting people…most of the time. Is there really nothing more we can do for him?

She looked at the inert face again. _What does he see that horrifies him enough to behave the way she described? I can't imagine what strength it would take to snap those restraints. What is he trying to escape from?_

She took a deep breath, and then jumped slightly as Dr. Satou spoke. "He should sleep through the night."

Takae nodded slowly. "Are you going, ma'am?"

"Yes." The doctor stared at the monitors for a few more moments. Then she headed for the hallway that led out of the high security unit and keyed herself out.

Takae turned back to the monitors. As she watched, Nineteen stirred faintly, then went still again, and Takae saw a tiny glint of tears trailing down his cheeks.

_…What does he see?_

---

**End Chapter 2**

---

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Yeah, Shinji's psychiatrist has issues of her own. : P This did veer quite far into the OC quarter. I wasn't quite expecting that, but then again, given that the main character is still in a catatonic stupor most of the time, the story and its background had to be advanced from _someone's_ POV.

My beta was confused by my frequent transitions between the present and the flashbacks to the past, so I experimented in this chapter with time-stamping the segments at the beginning. I didn't really like doing that; please give me some feedback and let me know whether it's helpful or unnecessary.

The next chapter is already in progress. Thanks to Fifth Horseman, Magtec, GiovanniBlasini, Macavity the Mystery Cat, Windshot, Napping Sleepy Kitty, and ERROR809 for reviewing and keeping up my drive to continue this!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Evangelion is not mine. No way could I come up with anything that wacked.

Warnings: **Squicky gore—disturbing hallucinations and a bit of self-inflicted violence**. AU…or maybe just a different interpretation of canon events. Follows on End of Evangelion; doesn't account for Death & Rebirth.

---

Nineteen

**Chapter 3**

---

Yumi stood and looked down at her patient. The morning aide stood by, fidgeting.

For the past few days, Nineteen had responded to the A6 when it was administered. He'd been prodded through his normal routine with no changes.

Then this morning, instead of letting himself be guided out of bed and dressed after the A6 was injected, Nineteen had remained limp, his eyes closed. The morning aide, who had been working her shift for three years, had been almost in a panic when Yumi arrived.

Yumi leaned down and gently grasped Nineteen's shoulder and upper arm, trying to roll him into a sitting position. He was limp. His head lolled. All the effort was hers; when she let go carefully, he sank back. She checked his pulse, turning an eye to the clock. A little faster than normal. She picked up his hand, and let go. It flopped laxly back to the sheet.

She felt her heart pick up pace as it had done before. _That isn't normal. But he isn't asleep. So what's going on?_

"Ma'am? Should I get a dose of A12?" the aide asked.

"Not…yet." Yumi turned and moved away from Nineteen, sitting down in one of the chairs. "Let's just wait a few minutes."

After a hesitation, the aide sat in the other chair. Yumi watched Nineteen.

The minutes ticked past. Five, ten, fifteen. He lay motionless.

"…Ma'am? Aren't we going to give him breakfast?" the aide whispered nervously.

Yumi looked at the clock. Eighteen… _I guess it isn't going to make a difference. _She nodded faintly, and stood up.

Nineteen's eyes were open. He turned his head toward the two women, displaying his usual expression of faint confusion.

_Interesting…decided to cooperate, hmm? Or did you just run out of strength to resist? _"All right, Miss Sakamura. Go ahead and get him up."

Yumi watched as the aide dressed the docile patient and sat him down for breakfast. _That's it. That was a change not caused by change in medication. That's something I can take to Nomura. _

She'd taken a risk, though, delaying his breakfast. Denying basic needs to get a response was not on the sunny side of ethics. But she'd had no intention of _not _giving him breakfast; she'd just delayed it, long enough to make a significant difference in his daily routine. _Hm… maybe I can suggest that. It's not the usual sort of therapy…but if it makes a change…_

With a nod of resolve, she excused herself and headed for Nomura's office.

---

_[July 17, 2015_

_Yumi put the chart on the table and looked down at her patient. He was rigid in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly that his knuckles were white and his arms trembled. His eyes were wide, his breathing not quite regular. He'd had nightmares again the evening before, tossing restlessly in bed; every time he'd dozed off, he'd awakened almost immediately, moaning and shaking. Finally they'd given him a shot of B8 and he'd settled down. _

It's starting to happen more often, _she thought. _He's been having restless nights on and off all month. I can't help hoping that it means he's coming out of it.

_During the day, even after a bad night, he usually returned to his normal state: a near total lack of response, no independent action at all. It took a dose of stimulant to get him into motion, and even then, if left alone, he resumed his passive silence. _

_She'd obtained permission to start giving him a stronger stimulant for their sessions. A few days ago she'd been so excited—he'd spoken, although hardly above a whisper. He'd been like the patients she'd seen in a hypnotic trance, his soft treble voice murmuring in a childlike monotone. _

_It was only a small improvement, really. His comments hadn't addressed her questions. His dark eyes had focused on her; he'd reacted to her voice, but shown no comprehension. He had not come much closer to reality._

But still,_ she thought, looking at him,_ it's good to hear his voice.

_She pulled up a stool and sat opposite him. "Shinji?" she said._

_He flinched. She'd never seen him so tense before. "Shinji, it's Dr. Satou. How are you feeling?"_

"_Dead," he whispered. "She's dead."_

"_Who, Shinji?"_

"_Asuka…" His voice cracked. He took his hands from the armrests of the chair, turned them up, and stared at his palms. A small sob or whimper escaped him, and he closed his eyes, lowering his hands and starting to scrub them slowly against his pant legs. He mumbled something she couldn't catch._

"_What?" She leaned a little closer._

_He was beginning to hyperventilate. "I killed her."_

"_You didn't kill Asuka, Shinji."_

"_Why won't it come off?" he whispered. He scraped his hands harder against his pant legs, and turned them up to look at them again. He started to scrape at his left palm with his fingernails._

_She reached out and firmly grasped both his hands in hers. "Shinji, listen to me." She took one hand away to lift his chin, raising his head. His wide, dilated brown eyes stared blankly back at he. His quick breaths rasped in her ears. "You did not kill Asuka. What you are seeing is not real. It's not true, Shinji, do you understand me?" She kept her voice low, but intense. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was."_

_As she watched, the empty eyes suddenly filled with tears. His shoulders hunched; he pulled his hands very slowly from her grasp and put them over his face. He huddled in the chair, beginning to rock back and forth a little. Tears trickled down from under his hands, but he made no sound except for his uneven, raspy breathing._

_Yumi sighed and laid a hand on his head. _

---

[August, 2025

The silence in Nomura's office was enough to make Yumi's ears ring, and she had to resist the impulse to rub them. There was only the hiss of the air conditioner, as Nomura gave her a long, intent look.

Yumi tried not to hold her breath. She'd come clean about everything that had happened with Nineteen in the past few days, throwing herself on Nomura's mercy. She'd been the most worried about her little ethical tightrope walk in delaying his meal; but there was no use in trying to hide it, either. This case was one where Nomura would review everything involved with great care before he would authorize anything new. If she glossed over her actions, it would make things worse; the video documentation would give her away.

Finally Nomura took his eyes from Yumi's face, and picked up Nineteen's chart. She breathed a little easier. He slowly paged through it again.

"You've been a very reliable doctor for the last nine years," he began, finally. "You've never slighted procedures, and you've learned how to use your instincts without relying on them. You were relatively new in the field when you first took on the Ikari case, but you're certainly a veteran now."

He looked up, aiming his gaze directly into her eyes. "All the same—" her heart began to sink— "your close work on the Ikari case made a very powerful psychological impression on you, and I feel the need to be very cautious in allowing you to resume therapy." He tapped the chart. "This incident with the food shows that I have reason." She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand to forestall her comment. "I am in agreement—tentatively—with your hypothesis about the change in his routine. I'm in favor of temporarily making a change to it, to see if it brings a more definitive reaction." He gave her a look she knew well. Once he'd been able to make her feel about two centimeters tall with that look. "But if there are any more deviations like that, I will see you off this case and out of this facility."

Yumi swallowed her anger and forced herself to stare steadily back at him. "I understand."

---

_His existence was narrow, the width of a hospital corridor, or a train car. The only sound was a steady hiss, far-off and faint, like the breathing of his mind. There were voices sometimes, but they were also far-off and unimportant: people passing through corridors around him but never appearing in sight. _

_Once in a while his world coiled around him, shrinking to the cockpit of an Eva. That was when he saw what was left of Asuka. He'd learned to fight it. He didn't want to fight, but he didn't have a choice. Once, a long time ago, he'd tried to hide from the sight instead, curling up and hiding his face. But trying to hide only made it worse. At least if he fought, he might be busy fighting and miss the details of the gleaming remains of Asuka's body lying spread out on the grass, mingled inseparably with the organic components of her Eva. _

_The trouble was, he could never quite separate that body from the other one. Sometimes he stood over Asuka's inert but intact body in Misato's apartment, and stared at a mingling of blood and semen on his hands that refused to come off no matter what he did. Fighting seemed to make that scene worse, because even when he successfully fought it off, it always left him with a painful arousal that wouldn't leave him for hours._

_Had Asuka died twice? Which death was the real one? He couldn't tell; the tacky wetness on his hands felt as real as the shattering sensation that had overwhelmed him when he saw Asuka splattered across the field of her final battle._

_Or were both deaths false?_

_It didn't really matter. If either death was real, he was responsible._

_More rarely, his world expanded, stretching out to infinity and leaving him floating in LCL. Sometimes Kaworu would be there, or Rei, or Misato; even less frequently, his mother would be there. Those times were good, but they didn't come often, and the bad thing about those was when they ended. He'd cry, with no one to hear, until the silence swallowed him again._

_Sometimes he heard a soft, soothing voice. It spoke very gently, and didn't seem to demand or expect an answer. He seemed to hear it often lately, and as he listened to it, he found himself wondering who it was. _

_Not for long, though. The voice always moved on, like the others, and left him alone in the corridor. All he could do was sit, and wait to hear the voice again._

---

Takae looked into Nineteen's vacant brown eyes as she lifted the spoon to his lips. She looked back at the doctor. "Ma'am, how much of a difference is this change likely to make?"

Yumi was looking at Nineteen's chart. "I'm not sure, Takae. Some people might say none at all. But something is going on here, something new. I don't know how much we can hope for after all these years, but things can't get a great deal worse for him. I'll try everything I can."

Takae watched the doctor. _She sounds different. That first day, she sounded so cold…like there was no hope at all for him, and the best we could do was to keep him in his cage. Now… _It was like the doctor herself had been in some sort of cold, resigned sleep, only to have something suddenly jar her out of it.

_She's _not _resigned to just keeping him. She still believes he can be cured. _Takae looked again at Nineteen, and wondered, not for the first time, what those dark eyes would look like with a sane, whole mind gazing out of them. "Do you…know what he was like? Before?"

The long silence was broken only by Nineteen's swallowing and the scrape of the spoon on the plate. Takae began to wonder if she'd asked something out of bounds, but Yumi finally spoke. "He'd had a lonely life," she said. "His mother died when he was very small…his father abandoned him to other relatives and became obsessed with his work. I get the impression that he had to fend for himself a great deal of the time. He had a very practical, domestic side…and yet somewhere along the line, he'd developed an enduring fear of getting close to people. Even when it seemed like he desperately wanted to, it was a struggle."

Nineteen's face remained placidly blank, as if they weren't discussing him at all. Takae scraped the last of his food out of a corner of the sectioned plate. "You're doing a regular therapy session with him tomorrow?"

"Yes. On top of the schedule change." She looked at her patient, who swallowed his last bite and sat in placid silence like a child's doll. She came closer to look into his face. She could have been looking into the eyes of a mannequin.

Yumi smiled. "There's still someone in there, somewhere," she murmured.

---

The evening passed uneventfully. Yumi stayed late to catch up on some neglected paperwork for her other patients, and by the time she surfaced it was past bedtime for the high security patients. She passed the break room, decided she really didn't need any more coffee, and plucked a bottle of water from the refrigerator before heading for the aides' station.

"Dr. Satou!"

Yumi halted; an aide was running up the hallway toward her. "Yes?"

"Dr. Satou, something's really wrong—come on!"

Yumi's heart sank toward her stomach, and she ran on down the hallway.

She heard the screams before she ran into the room. Aides were grouped around the monitors. She pushed them aside until they realized who was coming and skittered out of the way.

On the monitor, Nineteen was still restrained in bed. He was the one screaming, his body arched up bowlike, the cords on his thin neck standing out. His thrashing was shaking the bed; it was bolted to the wall and couldn't be moved, but the rattling was unnerving. Yumi had to resist the urge to put her fingers in her ears, run from the room, find a deep dark closet somewhere. She hadn't heard Nineteen scream like this in years.

Yumi looked wildly on the screen for Takae. She spotted the aide flat against the wall, her face white with terror. A syringe was on the floor by the bed.

As Yumi watched, Takae unfroze and moved toward the key hanging on the wall by the door. She didn't take her eyes off the shrieking, struggling patient, but her hands trembled so badly that when she got the key off the hook, she dropped it.

Yumi jerked out her own key ring and ran from the monitors to the door. "Did somebody call for security?" she yelled, jamming her key into the lock.

"Yes! They're coming!" she barely heard someone call back. Yumi jerked the door open, and a trembling Takae almost fell into her arms.

Behind Takae, Nineteen had jerked free of one wrist restraint; blood was dripping onto the white sheets. His screams had stopped. His dark eyes were as wide as Takae's, his chest and hospital pants were flecked with red. Despite the blood, his fingers were working frantically at the other buckle.

Yumi hauled Takae out of the room and slammed the door behind her. She barely had time to get out of the way before three large, burly orderlies bustled past and entered the room. She heard Nineteen's screaming start again just before the door slammed; she continued to hear it, echoing and distant, from the monitors.

Takae was clutching Yumi's arm hard enough to leave marks. "I d-didn't say anything to him," she whispered through chattering teeth. "He was t-talking to himself when I came in. I didn't say anything, I just t-tried to give him his shot…"

"Takae." Yumi grasped Takae's chin and made the girl look into her eyes. Takae gulped and fell silent. "I believe you. But let's get out of here. We'll go to the break room and you can get a drink. You have to calm down. All right?"

Takae nodded, and Yumi walked the shaking girl back out into the aides' station. A brief conference with one of the night staff resulted in another aide—to her dismay—appointed to watch Nineteen's monitor for a little while. Yumi didn't have any sympathy; when she glanced at the monitor; the aides had gotten a tranquilizer into him and were bandaging his wrist. After that, they'd fit him with a restraining jacket and take him to solitary, where he couldn't hurt himself quite so badly if he acted up again. The relief aide would have little to do during the night.

Five minutes later, Yumi sat with Takae at one of the small tables. The girl slowly drank a cup of hot tea, and her shaking subsided.

"What happened?" Yumi asked her.

Takae pulled in a long shuddery breath. "I heard him talking on the monitor. I went in to give him the B8. He didn't settle down, so I tried to give him the B24. It hadn't been five minutes, I know it hadn't, I was watching the clock. He'd been getting really upset, and he jerked his arm and knocked the syringe out of my hand. Then he started screaming."

"What was he saying?"

"First he was just whispering something over and over. When he got a little louder, I could hear him. He was saying, 'I won't run, I won't run.'"

Yumi closed her eyes.

"Then he started crying and asking for someone, anyone, to help him…I didn't say anything, honest I didn't, I just went to give him the shot, but that's when he started screaming and thrashing around, there wasn't any way I could give it to him…I remembered what you said, though, about him getting out of the restraints, and I got back away from him…that was when you came."

Yumi nodded. "You did what you should have, Takae." She stood up. "Take your time. The orderlies will take him back to his room in a couple of hours when he's settled down."

The girl's voice was still not entirely steady. "Will we still go ahead with changing his schedule tomorrow?"

Yumi looked back at her from the doorway. "Yes," she said firmly. "Goodnight, Takae."

"Goodnight, ma'am."

---

Yumi packed her briefcase in her office, glancing ruefully at the clock. _I really should get out of here. I've been here for how long? I haven't done a fourteen-hour day in years._

In spite of her best intentions, Yumi found her mind wandering as she glanced through Shinji's file. In the first months following his admission ten years ago, there had been nights she had stayed so late that she had slept here rather than go home and come back.

She hadn't done that since her breakdown. Nomura had strongly discouraged it, and she'd found she needed the distance from the hospital to get her emotional balance back. But still, grudgingly aware of the minutes ticking by, she sat in her chair, paging through the transcripts in the file, letting them take her back ten years.

---

_Excerpt from The Report of the Commission on the Abortion of Third Impact, Appendix XIII – Third Child – Shinji Ikari, Section II – Health Records, Part VII – Psychiatric Analysis, Dr. Chizu Kirie – Personal Notes_

_My contact with all the pilots has been strictly limited and mostly relegated to observation from the other side of a camera. I have complained about this condition to administration. As yet, no action has been taken to allow me more useful contact with the subjects I am supposed to be analyzing. _

_Of all three pilots, it is Pilot Ikari with whom command seems to wish that I have the least contact. Predictably, it is also Pilot Ikari whose suitability and stability I am most concerned with. Granted, none of our pilots so far are shining examples of stable personalities. Then again, perhaps it's this very instability and nonconformity that allow them to be pilots of these alien machines._

_Although Pilot Ikari has apparently formed a connection with two of his schoolmates and is forming a relationship—if it can be called such—with Pilot Langley, I believe his overall state of mind has not improved since he arrived. I remain tentatively hopeful that he will develop a bond with Major Kisaragi. She reports that he does his share of their chores uncomplainingly and responsibly. His teachers report minimal problems with him in school. He coasts quietly through the minimum required to fulfill his duties here. He speaks little._

_But his silence isn't the quiet of a peaceful soul. More and more I get the feeling that somewhere beneath my reach, there's a dangerous flaw that continued pressure will eventually turn into a crack. And I have the uneasy feeling of being a Cassandra, trying to warn people who will refuse to listen until it is entirely too late._

---

**End Chapter 3**

---


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Evangelion characters, etc. do not belong to me. This is just for fun, don't sue me, etc.

---

Nineteen

**Chapter 4**

---

Shortly after lunch, Yumi found herself standing in the therapy room, looking out the window as an orderly and the first-shift aide settled Nineteen into a chair. It was an abysmally hot day, and in spite of the laboring air conditioner, the room was stuffy. Sunlight poured in the windows. She went to the other window and closed the blinds.

The orderly called her attention, and she turned. "Do you want us to stay…?" he said. He looked highly uneasy; someone must have passed on the story from last night.

Yumi shook her head. "No, thank you, that's all right. Go on back to the aide station. I'll call you when we're finished."

He hesitated as long as he dared, and then left the room; the aide followed him with a disturbed glance back.

Yumi took a deep breath, and went to take a chair opposite Nineteen.

He'd had a dose of A12. He was gazing ahead, expressionless, yet there was something different about him. It wasn't his typical look of having no one at home inside his skull; he looked more like someone deeply lost in thought, although he did not acknowledge her presence.

"Shinji?" she said softly.

He stirred. His chin lifted a little; his eyes widened. He cast his gaze slightly from side to side, as if searching for the source of an invisible voice. He shifted in his chair.

Her heart started doing a tango. "Shinji, move your left hand if you can hear me."

He shifted again. The fingers of his left hand twitched—she almost jumped as his entire left arm slid off the arm of the chair, into his lap. His hand knotted into a fist, trembling slightly. His breathing had quickened; she could hear it puffing from his nose.

"Shinji," she said, hardly above a whisper, aware that the muscles of her shoulders were knotted as tightly as his fist, "can you look at me?"

She saw his shoulders hunch a tiny bit. The right hand slid off the chair arm into his lap, joining the left; they clenched each other spasmodically like a completed circuit. He lifted his chin a little more, and blinked, his eyes finding focus somewhere, though he wasn't sure it was on her. They crept a little higher, but then he ducked his head a little, his hands wrenching at each other.

She wasn't going to argue with even that amount of response. "That's good," she said softly, trying to hide her exhilaration. "Shinji, I'm a doctor. I want to help you. Can you understand me?"

Silence. Squirming. Clenching hands. But there was response. His eyes still gazed one way, then the other. There was no other stimulus in the room that she could discern; if he wasn't merely reacting to something in his own inner world, it had to be her voice he was responding to. "Shinji, can you speak? Can you say, 'I hear you'?"

His lips parted around nothing but a faint puff of breath. He hunched more deeply and clenched his hands together so hard that she heard knuckles crack. Tentatively, afraid of disrupting whatever was holding him so close to the surface, she laid one hand over his.

His squirming stopped abruptly. He sat motionless, lips still parted; she held her breath, fearing she'd just driven him back under. He drew a shuddery breath, and she saw tears rise in his eyes, but they did not fall.

_He's there! _she exulted silently. _He is hearing me! Damn what anyone says, he is _there!

"Rei," he whispered.

She felt a cold wash that dashed away her elation. So very many times, years ago, she had sat in this room and listened to him ask over and over for those few people he had cared for, and never once had her replies penetrated.

"No, Shinji," she whispered listlessly, lowering her eyes. She slowly removed her hand from his. "Rei isn't here."

A sudden touch on her fingertips made her jump a little. She looked up.

Shinji was looking directly at her.

His eyes still swam with tears, but they were wide and alert. He had reached out; the very tips of the fingers of his left hand rested against hers. As she stared at him, stunned beyond thought, he drew his hand away. He lowered his eyes; the tears spilled over.

"She was there," he whispered, so softly she could hardly hear him.

"Who?" she breathed.

There was a long pause, and she sat without moving a muscle.

"Rei," he whispered finally. "She was in there." More tears spilled down. His hands unlocked from each other with great effort, and came up to cover his face. His shoulders began to shake. "She's dead."

Yumi dragged in a deep breath, dimly aware that if she didn't, she might very well pass out. In the past, Shinji had spoken many times of believing he had murdered Asuka, but not since his admittance had he expressed any understanding—or asked any questions—of what had happened to Rei.

The worst of it was, as far as Yumi knew, it was true. The last confirmed report of the location of the First Child was inside NERV headquarters. The report had been hours old, and they had searched the city just in case, but they had found no trace of Rei Ayanami.

Yumi felt tears sting her own eyes as she watched Shinji, weeping almost silently. 

---

Shinji spoke no more during the session. In spite of the A12, he sat exhausted and listless once his tears were spent. Docile and unresponsive, he allowed himself to be herded gently back to his room.

Nevertheless, Yumi had to sit in her office for a good half hour before she finally managed to compose herself. She felt as though she'd just run a mile without stopping. The continued pounding of her heart frightened her.

_He responded. He spoke to me. He _looked _at me. _She got up to pace, unable to be still any longer. _He _touched _me. Shinji almost _never _touched people if he could help it. _She remembered a comment on it in his file, an observation from the NERV psychologist. Seeking more information about the Third Child shortly after he'd been admitted to the hospital, she'd tried to establish contact with Dr. Chizu. Chizu had been called to a meeting outside NERV the day before the attack, and had thus been one of the very few NERV personnel to survive the destruction of the headquarters.

Yumi's request for contact had been denied. _"Security," _she'd been told blandly. Pure bureaucratic-military stupidity, was more like it.

Yumi sat down in her chair again, gazing at her computer monitor, displaying Shinji's file. Thoughtfully, she opened a connection to the military database. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a few moments; then she began to type.

---

_His world widened._

_There was never any warning. One moment, he sat alone in a chilly corridor; the next, he floated, adrift in a golden-orange sea. LCL. Once, it had frightened him. Now he stretched out, feeling almost comfortable. Rocked gently in mild ripples of current, warm, safe, contained yet unconstrained. His heart beat faster. He knew that he would hurt when it was over, but he couldn't help it. Couldn't quite keep from feeling hope. No matter how much the hope hurt._

_It was Kaworu._

_He cried. He always cried, and Kaworu always smiled, and held him. He knew it wasn't real. He knew Kaworu was dead. But he couldn't help it. Couldn't help relaxing into those gentle arms, resting his head on Kaworu's bare shoulder, and hoping that this time, it wouldn't end._

"_Don't make me go back," he whispered._

_Kaworu stroked his hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I know it's been hard."_

"_Please." Shinji tried to hold him more tightly. Please. Please. Please._

_Kaworu held him at arm's length—Shinji almost cried again—and looked intently into his face. "You have a choice," he said softly._

_Shinji stared at him, confused. "A choice?"_

"_I can show you the way back."_

_The phrase made him shudder. "Back to where?"_

_Kaworu didn't speak, just gazed at Shinji. Shinji shuddered again. "No."_

"_You deserve better, Shinji."_

"_No, I don't. I killed—" His voice broke in his throat. He clung on harder to Kaworu, hiding his face against Kaworu's shoulder. Not this time. Not again. Please._

"_Yes," Kaworu said softly, and laid his hands on either side of Shinji's face, forcing his head back up. Gentle, but irresistible. "You did."_

_Shinji cried again—so tired, he was so tired of crying, but he couldn't help it—and Kaworu continued to hold his gaze. "They're waiting for you," Kaworu whispered._

_Shinji stared, confused again. "Who?"_

_Kaworu smiled. And kissed him. And was gone._

_He wept, huddled again in the empty corridor. He cried so hard he was afraid he would never stop, but keep crying until he poured out all the rest of his life through his tears, and dry up and shrivel away._

_He heard voices in the corridor, very near, but he couldn't quiet himself enough to listen. _

_---_

Yumi hovered near the door to Nineteen's room, confused and alarmed.

Nineteen was crying.

Not hysterical screaming; not the silent, blank-eyed leaking of the first night she had seen him. His eyes were tightly closed, streaming tears that had already soaked wide places on his pillow; he sobbed and wailed aloud. He was twisted awkardly in his bed, as if trying to curl up with his face to the wall, but the restraints held him on his back.

_What do I do? _It was only four-thirty, half an hour to go before his medication was due.

Feeling a pang, Yumi stepped quickly out, re-locked the door, and hurried to the nurses' station to call Dr. Satou.

---

_Eventually, he was too exhausted even to cry anymore._

_He lay on the bench, in the empty corridor, and stared at the wall. And shivered. He was cold, always cold here. Underground. Underground to be safe from the Angels._

_There were still voices. They were as far away as ever, but this time, he found himself listening to them. They were muffled, unclear. With unaccustomed effort, he strained to hear the words._

"…actually said he's making progress. If he still reacts to…"

_The voices faded again from that brief spurt of clarity. They droned on, seemingly just beyond his reach. Weary, he lay still for another few moments, and then made one more effort._

"…think he'll come out of it?"

"…if we keep trying. Even so…well…"

_Something was happening. He felt dizzy, as if the gravity in the corridor had been switched off and there was no "down" anymore—or worse, as if every direction were "down". It made his stomach begin to roll; he writhed, and retched. Very little came up. He retched again, feeling pulled in every direction at once, feeling no pain but a hideous disorientation. The voices seemed to skip and pulse like a fractured signal, coming to his ears in a strobelike staccatto that only increased his discomfort. _

_As the spasm eased, though, his vision seemed to blur. He was in two places at once. He was lying on a corridor bench on his side, smelling strong antiseptic; he was lying in a hospital bed, twisted painfully against wrist and ankle restraints, smelling vomit. The overlap of smells made him gag again, but nothing was left in his stomach._

_The voices were nearer. There were hands on him, and they were gentle, but he was afraid anyway. One hand curved over his forehead, and suddenly he realized that the pulling sensation was gone. Down was against the bed beneath him; up was past the hand on his forehead, past the foggy faces, to the white ceiling above. An unfamiliar ceiling._

"…get his bed changed," _the firmer of the two voices was saying. _"Here, we'll just get him over to the chair, and I'll call the infirmary—"

_He felt the restraints on his arms and legs undone, felt himself being prodded gently to sit up. He obeyed, the easiest course, although sitting up made his stomach roll. Gentle hands eased him up onto his feet, across the room, over to the chair—the short walk seemed familiar, although he was dizzy and his head felt foggy. He sank into the chair and slumped down a little with relief. He felt so weak he could hardly hold his head up._

_It was _good _to be out of that bed. Even though his stomach felt bad, and he really felt more like lying down right now, that bed seemed to breathe horror at him, and he looked away from it._

_Away from the bed, and toward the woman who was wiping his skin with a warm, soft damp cloth. She wasn't looking at him; her eyes were on the other woman. The other woman was speaking and she was listening. _

_She had brown hair, and a nice face. She seemed familiar, as though he'd seen her a thousand times before, although he didn't know her name. _

_She turned back to him, but she didn't look him in the face; she was replying to the other woman. She raised him to his feet and carefully removed his fouled shirt, and then went on to remove his pants._

_Something seemed vaguely wrong about that, but his mind was too fuzzy to figure it out. Before he could, he was deftly maneuvered into a fresh pair of pants, and gently seated in the chair again._

_The door opened, and a white-clad woman entered. She traded places with the brown-haired woman, took his temperature and blood pressure, and checked his pulse._

"…no fever, but his heart rate and his blood pressure are up a bit…think we should take him to the infirmary?"

_The severe-looking doctor stepped around the brown-haired woman to look at him. _

"He's pretty tanked right now. I think it'll be all right."

---

_The halls they walked him through seemed vaguely familiar. The brown-haired woman kept a gentle grip on his arm and one hand on his back, and that also seemed familiar. He trudged along, his feet feeling like lead. He couldn't seem to think clearly, or keep his train of thought on track for more than a few seconds. He watched the windows pass by until they walked through the infirmary doors._

_He let himself be steered through the ward and into a small patient room. The bed looked just like the bed he'd just left, right down to the restraints fitted on it, and he felt a sick wave of horror in spite of his overall numbness. No. No more dreams…please…_

---

Yumi frowned, looking at the infirmary bed. The restraints ought to hold in case he got violent, but maybe they should have any nearby patients cleared out first… She turned to speak to the infirmary doctor, and caught a glimpse of Shinji's face. She froze, and her heart started to pound sickeningly.

His eyes were open, so wide she could see bloodshot white all around the dark irises, which were a narrow rim of brown around dilated pupils. His nostrils flared, and she heard a ragged intake of breath, which for Shinji always heralded hyperventilation. His drugged docility was rapidly evaporating in tension. Cords were beginning to stand out on his neck.

_Oh my God…_

She grabbed Takae by one arm and shoved her toward the door. "Get out, fast!" she snapped. The infirmary doctor's jaw dropped, her eyes fell on Shinji, and she hustled out after the startled Takae. Yumi backed toward the door after them, not taking her eyes off Shinji. "Call security!" She slammed the door shut between them and Shinji, and locked it with shaking fingers, and looked through the narrow viewing window.

Only twice had she seen Shinji with an expression like that on his face. Both times he had nearly killed someone.

He had not moved from the spot where he had been standing. He stood rigid, apparently still staring at the empty bed. Then, slowly, he turned around.

Yumi blinked. Shinji's eyes, no longer so alarmingly wide, were leaking tears. His expression was frightened and confused, but when he looked at the window where she peered in, his eyes met hers directly. She inhaled sharply, tensing, waiting for the explosion.

There was nothing.

He did not fling himself at the door; he did not scream. He turned away from the door, and stumbled into a corner, out of Yumi's visual range. She turned from the window. Takae and the infirmary doctor were watching her with fearful, perplexed expressions. Yumi went to the nurses' station to look at the room's monitor.

Shinji had huddled into a ball, squeezed into the corner, his knees tucked to his chest. His face was buried in his folded arms.

Two heavily built security officers, each with a tranquilizer gun, thundered into the infirmary behind her. "Is it Nineteen again?" one of them asked. "Did he hurt anyone?"

"…No." Yumi stepped back from the monitor, allowing them to see Shinji sitting in the corner. "I'm sorry, gentlemen. False alarm." She looked at the infirmary doctor. "Please call Dr. Nomura and ask him to come in right away. He needs to see this."

---

_They'd gone away and left him here. He was alone._

_He could hardly care right now, really. He felt so tired, so sluggish; even though his stomach still ached a little, he just wanted to sleep. His body felt as if it belonged to someone else. He didn't know where he was—other than in a hospital—or how he'd come here. He didn't know what day it was—what year it was. He lifted his head, and looked down at his hands. They seemed…larger than he remembered. _

_He laid his face back on his arms, trembling, and closed his eyes tightly. He tried, with all his might, to sink back into darkness, in the hope that he'd open his eyes and find himself back in the sea of LCL with Kaworu. Or even to find himself on his hard bench in the corridor, where at least he knew what nightmares to expect._

_But when he opened his eyes again, he was still locked in the room with the empty bed. And he cried, because he knew he had left Kaworu behind for good this time._

---

_Excerpt from The Report of the Commission on the Abortion of Third Impact, Appendix XIII – Third Child – Shinji Ikari, Section II – Health Records, Part VII – Psychiatric Analysis, Dr. Chizu Kirie – Personal Notes – CLASSIFIED [Clearance Level S]_

_I may be a psychologist, but that doesn't mean I don't feel homicidal every once in a while._

_It took me two hours in the gym to calm down after my little chat with the general staff, and if my rent weren't due in a week I'd hand in my resignation right now. _

_After her suicide attempt and rescue, Pilot Langley is completely out of commission, catatonic in the infirmary. Pilot Nagisa is dead, which ought to be a great relief, given that he turned out to be an Angel in disguise. _

_The flaw in that viewpoint is that somehow, in the short time that Pilot Nagisa spent as a human, he managed to make an emotional connection with Shinji that—apparently—no one of this earth has been able to make. _

_And then Shinji was forced to kill Kaworu himself, when Kaworu revealed himself as an Angel._

_Since then Pilot Ikari has completely fallen apart. He cannot synch with his EVA. He cannot even make simple decisions. He had little enough confidence before; he has none now. He haunts Asuka's room, waiting for her to regain consciousness. Yet in spite of the pain and fear that hang so thick about him, he still holds himself aloof from everyone. I doubt he possesses the initiative to attempt suicide like Asuka did, but I'd be willing to bet my year's salary that he'll be another breathing corpse in the room next to Asuka's by the time the week's out._

_I made the mistake of sharing that poetic image at the meeting, and was duly informed that had I been doing my job, Pilot Langley and Pilot Ikari would not have broken down. With commendable patience on my part, I decided not to inform them that if I had been given the means to do my job, we would never have allowed an Angel to enter the base impersonating a pilot._

_As the cherry on top of the good news, I am being sent out of the base, tonight, for "professional evaluation" at the army headquarters tomorrow. My clearances have been revoked; I am allowed no further access to the pilots or their records. It seems someone else will be cleaning up after my alleged failure. _

_I suspect this is the end of my involvement with NERV; I fully expect a court martial as their scapegoat, with a dishonorable discharge as my best likely reward for my work._

_The worst-case scenario, naturally, is that I don't make it to army headquarters alive, which is why I will be leaving NERV headquarters in ten minutes to secure my own transportation instead of waiting for NERV's helicopter. _

_I personally regret leaving Shinji in such pain, but there was never much I could do for him. God have mercy on him…and on whoever is left behind to pick up the pieces of him, once he's finally broken._

---

**End Chapter 4**

---

AN: Hey, it's been a very long time, but I updated! Yes, I do still plan to finish this fic. Is there anyone out there who'd be interested in being a beta? Let me know. It'd be nice to have someone who knows NGE that I can bounce ideas off of once in a while.


End file.
